Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Burn Once More

He said not to tell anyone. He was embarrassed. He knew his behaviours were not quite right. He didn't want people to judge him. It would make it awkward for him, and of course me. People would question and judge. I wouldn't want that now, would I?

"Don't tell anyone of the voices I hear. Don't mention the shadows I see flitting around and the questions of whether they are real, drug-induced, or come from potential mental instabilities. If only I loved him, they would all disappear. They would just melt into the dawn of our perfect tomorrows forever."

As long as I didn't tell anyone.

The creak of a floorboard wasn't the house settling. It was mysterious men waiting until he was unawares to sweep me away.

The whispers on the wind were lovers rapt in illicit acts not meant to be, but meant to be specifically heard to drive demons into unfettered thoughts.

The wrinkles in clothes were evidence of a tussle, a coerced tryst, a living lie to provoke anxiety and mistrust. Not anything to do with sitting at a desk for hours, or caused by the casual push of a shopping cart in the grocery store.

These are boxes peeked into. These are memories shoved into dark corners, so as not to inspect them, so as not to puzzle them together and see the whole picture. Those boxes have been opened though. They have been pushed together to make a mountain out of the molehills I refused to do anything but stumble around.

But as I stare at them aghast, they crumble in the light of a new day. Their power is lost in history even as the scars simmer on my soul. I talk them out. I write them away. I steal back the power they had to create fantastical phantasmic faerytales that were too full of bogeymen and ghouls for anyone to survive. Because I wouldn't have, had we continued.

Yet the light begins to burn once more...



6 comments:

  1. kinda scary...there are some secrets that shouldnt be kept...and we shouldnt be guilted into keeping...sounds a little paranoid delusional...on the other hand, in the end, you feel the fire for taking the step away...

    and thats gotta be a good thing...

    heh, lying to myself...nice.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. @Brian: I am trying to re-spark 'me'. Not bury myself in those boxes, that history.

      And it is a good thing.

      Delete
  2. You hinted, but never shared the full extent of the situation. I'm glad you're talking and writing now - it's part of the healing process. I can't say "I know how you feel", because no two stories are alike, and the people who live them aren't either. But I can say, "I understand". I understand being ashamed. I understand keeping secrets. I understand staying when you know that it's probably past time to go. And I understand the bittersweet freedom/lonliness that comes when you finally walk away. Never hesitate to reach out to me if you need to talk. xoxo
    -C

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. @C: You probably know better than most my friend. Of course how many others have their own secrets locked behind closed doors and tucked into their own boxes so as not to inspect them, understand them and do anything about them. The worst part is that history stains a person, whether we like it or not.

      But sometimes those lessons can be a good thing.

      Delete

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